"You're here. Again. It's as though you're homeless," Sherlock grumbled when he came home to find Rose in his flat.
"Love you too," Rose replied in a sing-song tone.
His prediction that she would spend about as much time in his and John's flat as she had prior to moving in next door had quickly come true over the past two weeks and Sherlock's complaints were halfhearted at best.
"Please tell me you did not steal our coffee again, because I want to have coffee," Sherlock retorted. "In fact, if we're out, I'm going to spank you."
Rose rolled her eyes. "You might be out."
Growling, Sherlock exited the flat.
"Did you take his nicotine patches again?" She asked John.
"He abuses them terribly. You cannot wear three patches, it's not safe," John said, shaking his head. "And I live in fear of the day he has a "four patch problem.""
"I found of box of them under my sink the other day. I should really take back that key I gave him," Rose mused.
Just then Sherlock stormed back into the flat, carrying a container of coffee grounds. "Look John, we have coffee again!" He announced a little too happily.
"Well, would you look at that," John chuckled, particularly when he caught sight of the look on Rose's face.
"That's my coffee!" Rose laughed.
"And this is my flat, which you continue to live in, despite having one of your own. I'm not entirely certain you actually live in your flat and if I have to share mine with you, you're sharing your coffee with me."
The routine the three had fallen into was a comfortable one for each of them. Rose popped over each morning for breakfast with John and Sherlock if he was awake and eating, before she headed off to the Yard. At night, the two men went next door to have dinner with Rose, much to the delight of Mrs. Hudson, who always thought Sherlock and John hadn't taken good care of themselves. After dinner they typically went back to 221B, just because it was larger and more experiment friendly for Sherlock, until someone decided they were ready for bed. For Sherlock, there was the added benefit of being able to keep a good eye on his sister, and discover that she really did enjoy being around post-grounding.
"Someone doesn't want dinner tomorrow," Rose decided. "Is that what you're saying Sherlock?"
"No, I'm saying give me back my damn patches!"
"That's all me, Sherlock," John assured him. "And you're not getting them. You're going to poison yourself."
"These murders are a three patch problem John. I need my patches," Sherlock growled.
"You need a time out," Rose decided with a snicker. Her attempt to lighten the mood was met with narrowed eyes and a pinch on the behind that nearly sent her off the kitchen chair.
"John! He's picking on me again!"
"John, make her go home!"
"Now, now children. Daddy's trying to relax," John quipped, picking up the newspaper. "If you can't play like good little children, I'll send you both to the corner for a time out."
This declaration was meant with a moment of stunned silence from the Holmes siblings, before the trio dissolved into laughter, the tensions of the day melting away.
"And who made you 'Daddy'?" Sherlock asked sarcastically, settling down with his coffee.
John let out an undignified snort. "Do you really need to ask? I am, by far, the most adult person in the room."
Rose gave a sigh of contentment. "I love this…this whatever we are together. Call it what you want, but it's wonderful."
"I heard a rumor earlier that you'll be avoiding us coming up soon," John said. "I'm quite broken hearted about it."
"And we'll starve, heartless girl," Sherlock added. He wrapped an arm around Rose and kissed the top of her head.
"Avoiding is such a strong term," Rose replied, shaking her head. "I'm meeting my dance partner tomorrow after volunteering and we're going to start practicing for a ballroom dancing competition coming up in November."
"That's wonderful! And we'll be invited, yeah? To watch the competition, I mean," John asked.
"Of course! You and Sherlock and Mycroft as well, if we can convince him to come."
"Provided he's not freelancing with the CIA or what have you, I'll make certain he attends," Sherlock promised. "What's this new partner's name? Do you know him?"
Rose shook her head. "No, I haven't met him before. Bonnie said he's brilliant though and we'll be well matched," she explained, referencing the director of the dance school. "He does ballet and ballroom, same as me. We'll probably have a lot of late nights as we work on choreography and everything. It's going to be a lot of work, but I'm so looking forward to it!"
"Be back by midnight," John told her, giving her a firm look. "My dad always said nothing good ever happened after midnight."
"That's completely untrue. I was born around 3am and that's after midnight," Sherlock replied.
John gave Rose a pointed look. "See what I told you? Nothing good happens after midnight."
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"I can't promise that," Rose admitted softly. "But I'll do my best. Not because I have to obey any sort of curfew, mind you," she cautioned. "But because I don't want anyone to be worried."
"I'll expect texts on a regular basis, or I'll come find you," Sherlock added. "I've yet to track your mobile, but I will start doing so if you don't communicate with one of us."
John nodded his agreement. "And make sure he's a gentleman and sees you into a cab before he leaves. If he doesn't, I want to know about it."
"Or Captain Watson will come looking for him?" Rose asked with a laugh. "I'll be good, promise! Regular communication with someone, and I'll be safe. We'll be right at the studio and it's in a good, safe neighborhood."
"Louise! You're back from holiday!" Rose exclaimed, hurrying into the coffee shop the next morning. "How was it?"
"It was wonderful. Have you ever been to the Bahamas? You really should go, it's the warmest and most relaxing place I've ever been," Louise said. "But I missed seeing you every morning. Have you started back at the studio yet? And did you move?"
Rose nodded. "Yeah, couple weeks back. Baker Street, 221C. You should come by sometime! And I start back at the studio tonight, I'm really excited."
"That's great. I'll see you then, I've got the 10-12 year old tap class tonight," Louise said. "The usual for you and your boss right? Such a creature of habit, silly girl."
"Routine is good, comforting. Much better than moving around all the time, flying low under the radar," Rose admitted.
"No kidding. I like my holidays, but you wouldn't find me backpacking around Europe! Write your mobile number down for me again, will you? I dropped mine in the ocean and had to get a new one. Lost all my contacts!" Louise said with a groan.
"Well, as long as that was the only downside to your holiday, I'd say you lucked out," Rose responded. She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down her number, giving it to Louise. "See you later on."
Rose moved aside, not wanting to keep anyone from getting their orders placed, and waited for her latte and Greg's macchiato to be finished. "Morning Mark, how are you?" she asked, seeing the young man looking at her.
"Oh fine, fine. You and Louise dance, huh? Couldn't help overhearing," Mark admitted.
"I've known Louise for an age, we started dance together when we were just tiny things," Rose explained. She thanked him for the drinks and headed on her way to Scotland Yard.
As Rose entered Lestrade's office, she let out a sigh. "You look like you haven't slept in a week, Greg," she said, handing over his drink.
"Feel like it too. Another one last night," Lestrade murmured. That made three young women found murdered in the last three weeks.
"I thought so. I heard Sherlock and John on the stairs really late last night. Have you found a connection yet between the victims?" Rose asked.
Lestrade shook his head. "That's why I called Sherlock. There's got to be something I'm missing. But enough of that, no need to worry you about it. I've got two boxes of reports that need to be alphabetized and then added to the cabinets. You up for it?"
"Oh, I think so. Leave it to me. And anything else I can do to help," Rose said sincerely. "Even if I have to buy you six coffees a day."
He smiled. "You're a good girl. Just do me a favor and stay safe, alright? That will be one less person I have to worry about."
"Done," she promised.
When Rose went for the afternoon coffee run, she was disappointed to see Louise had left, but she didn't lack for company as she waited for the large order to be filled. Mark, as usual, was waiting outside the coffee shop when she arrived.
"You're really very sweet, but you don't have to wait for me every day. I'm sure you're exhausted, you get in here at four in the morning," Rose said gently.
"I like to wait. I like to help you," Mark replied, smiling.
"Well don't wait around, alright? I'm a big girl, and I can always call an officer if I need some assistance," Rose assured him. "You get home and relax after your shifts, yeah?"
Mark frowned. "No, no, don't do that. It's only an extra ten minutes; I'm off duty at four."
She gave in and allowed him to help her carry the drinks up the street. Rose wasn't quite sure what to make of Mark. He seemed very eager, but in the last few weeks hadn't once asked for her number, or if she'd like to have dinner, or anything. At first she thought he was shy, and working up to it, but it had nearly been three weeks. He should have worked up to that point already.
Maybe he's just a real gentleman and likes to help a lady, she thought to herself as she entered Scotland Yard. Not interested, but a helpful sort of fellow. Perhaps women just weren't his area, and he was looking for a friend more than anything else?
"I think you've got yourself an admirer," Louise commented in the changing room at the studio. "Mark was talking about you all day. Wondering what you do up at the Yard, and were you seeing anyone. Loads of questions!"
"You know, I've thought so," Rose admitted. "He's very sweet, but he seems painfully shy. He walks me back every day after his shift, but he's never said anything about liking me or wanting to spend time with me. I'm not quite sure what to make of him."
"He's cute, though," Louise said. "Maybe he's not dated much?" Her voice took on a tragic tone and Louise whispered, "What if he had his heart broken and he's scared?"
"Oh, that would be awful! I really hope he works up to asking me out soon. I'm not seeing anyone at all, haven't dated in an age. It'd be nice to start up again, especially with someone who's as sweet as Mark seems to be."
Louise smiled. "Leave it to me! I'll put in a good word for you," she promised. "Now hurry off and meet your competition partner. Now he is a man, let me tell you. The little girls just swoon over him, it's the cutest thing. Can't blame them a bit. I'm very jealous of you Rose Holmes!"
The girls shared a giggle before parting ways; Louise off to teach tap and Rose to meet her partner.
"You look terrible," Louise giggled at the end of the night. "Been a while since you danced six hours straight, isn't it?"
"Too long. I'm not sure I'm able to walk properly," Rose laughed. Her mobile vibrated and she checked it, expecting a text from one of her brothers or John.
'You're beautiful.' No name, not a number she recognized. She dismissed it, assuming someone had put in the wrong number and sent a text to her rather than its intended recipient.
"Did you like Alfred? Isn't he gorgeous?" Louise whispered.
"He is. I'm going to have a lot of fun dancing with him. We'll make a lovely pair," Rose agreed. Picking up her duffle bag she walked with Louise towards the studio exit but stopped suddenly in her tracks.
"Do you see someone across the street, in that doorway?" She asked her friend.
"No, why?"
"I could've sworn that I saw someone over there," Rose mumbled. Her stomach twisted into knots; she had been so sure that a man had been in that doorway. "Do you want to wait and ride with me? I'm going to text my brother for a ride, he'd be happy to take you home."
Louise shook her head. "No, I'm fine. See you in the morning." The girls hugged and Louise exited the building.
Rose pulled out her mobile to text Mycroft. 'Could I get a ride from the studio to Baker Street?'
'Detained. Will send my car. M'
She let out a sigh of relief when the car arrived, even if she did have to hobble out to it. After giving the driver address, Rose sent John a text. 'You home? I'm on my way and need your help.'
'Everything alright?'
'My feet are so sore. Not sure I can make the stairs by myself.'
'I'll be there.'
Rose smiled to herself. John was so reliable and dependable. When the car dropped her at the curb, she hobbled inside; sure enough John was right there.
"What's going on? Why are you limping like that?"John asked.
"I've spent the last six hours dancing, for the first time in a long time. I've got a lovely crop of blisters going," she explained.
"Love, you should take better care of yourself," John scolded lightly. He scooped her up to carry her up the stairs.
"Your shoulder! John, put me down! This can't be good for your shoulder!" Rose protested.
"Hush, you weigh next to nothing, I swear it," John assured her. "Don't worry about me." He carried her into 221B and set her down on the couch. "Alright, let me see the damage to those feet of yours."
"They're a bit swollen. I might need help getting my shoes off," she admitted, wincing in advance.
After unlacing her sneakers, John carefully took her shoes off, cringing as she groaned in pain, then peeled off her socks as well.
"When you do something, you really do it, don't you?" John chuckled. "That looks so painful love. Though I must say, you have the tiniest feet I've ever seen on an adult woman. They'd be rather cute if they weren't so banged up."
"Dancing six hours straight does that to a girl. I'm out of practice, or at least my feet are. The rest was good," Rose admitted, grinning at him.
"God, six hours. Full on six hours?" John questioned. He frowned when she nodded in conformation. "Did you remember to drink like you should and eat a bit to keep up your energy?"
"Eh, sorta," Rose replied, blushing a bit.
"No. No 'sorta' business," he told her sternly. "You keep hydrated and eat like you should, or we're going to have words about the importance of your health. Understand?"
By now, her face was completely red, and she nodded to indicate she understood.
John leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I'll have to lance these if you want any hope of walking tomorrow," he admitted. "Try wearing some light socks until you get used to being in those heels for so long."
"Oh, because that's attractive," Rose laughed. "What will Alfred think of that?
"Let me get my kit, I'll be right back. Then you'd best tell me all about that Alfred; especially if he stayed until you were in a cab." John headed upstairs to retrieve his first aid kit and quickly returned to Rose.
"You know, I quite like having my own personal doctor," she decided. "Even if he scolds."
"And I'll do more than scold if necessary," John admitted. "I'm very tempted to bandage your entire foot when I get done with this. I want to see these feet again tomorrow."
Rose giggled and saluted. "You know, I quite like it when you say things like that."
"Like what, love?" He didn't look up at her, instead focusing on her abused feet.
"Just things. Fuss at me about things," she tried to explain. "It means you care."
"Why else would I put up with you?" John laughed. This time he looked up and winked. "Of course I care. You and those spiders though will be the death of me. Can't believe you can't manage those on your own."
"In all fairness, I haven't done any screaming since that first night," Rose countered defiantly.
"That's true, and I appreciate that. I enjoy my sleep. Hasn't stopped you from popping over and half dragging me into your flat to get them during the day though," he stated, shaking his head. "Say, I had a favor I wanted to ask."
"Anything."
"You haven't heard it yet."
Rose smiled. "Don't need to. Ask away."
"Well… I wanted to hire you. I've got an event coming up and I don't know how to dance. I was wondering if you'd teach me," John explained.
"Oh, I'd love to! That would be great. What sort of event?" Rose asked, her face lit up.
"A charity ball, benefiting wounded military personnel. I'd like to go and show some support. One of the girls from surgery is going with me, so I knew I just had to ask you for some lessons so I don't make an idiot out of myself," he told her sincerely.
"I'd love too, it'll be great fun! She won't be disappointed in you, I promise."
"It's about a month away, so we've got time. Time enough for you to keep practicing for that competition and for your feet to get used to working so hard again."
"Saturday then. I'll book a small room at the studio," Rose decided. "You'll be a brilliant dancer in no time."
When Rose woke up the next morning and checked her mobile, she found multiple text messages from that unknown number, one of which particularly unnerved her.
'You dance like an angel.'
It meant someone really had been across the street, watching, and had probably been closer to the studio at some point. The thought of someone watching her was unpleasant, even a little frightening.
'I don't know who this is,' she text. 'But please leave me alone.'
There was no response.
"You're a little jumpy today. You alright?" Lestrade asked that afternoon.
"Yes, just fine," Rose hurried to assure him, plastering a smile on her face. There had been eight texts in the last five hours and she still had no idea who they were from.
"Everyone's a bit on edge with these murders," he admitted.
"Particularly Sherlock, who is growing more obsessed by the day," she confessed. "It's troubling to think that even he cannot find a connection that makes sense between them. Loads of evidence, but nothing that ties them together aside from their sex and age."
"Quite right," Lestrade agreed. He was praying for a breakthrough before there was another murder. "But you'd tell me if it was something else, wouldn't you?"
She nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Of course. Would it be too much trouble for you, or someone, to give me a ride to the studio after I'm done?"
"No trouble at all," Lestrade assured her. "Sherlock would horribly murder me if something happened to you, so I'm more than willing to be extra cautious where you're concerned. Besides, who else would do all this nasty paperwork business for me?"
"I suppose you'd have to recruit another volunteer," Rose laughed.
"Well, when your hours are done, there's a job open for you," he said in all seriousness. "I could work it out. I know you've got something lined up with your dancing, but if you ever need work, I'll hire you in an instant."
Rose beamed at him. "That's great! Thank you so much, Greg. I might take you up on that sometime."
'Would you send a car for me again? Or come yourself?'
'What time? Is everything alright? M'
'It's dark and I'm a bit nervous. 11 please.'
'I'll see you then. M'
Mycroft frowned as he looked at his mobile, feeling very uneasy, but uncertain of why.
'Everything alright with Rose? M'
'Far as I know. Haven't seen her much, trying to solve those murders. SH'
'She's asked me for rides from the studio twice now. M'
'Good. She's being safe. SH'
At the same time her brothers were texting, Rose was deleting more of those unknown texts from her mobile. This is really an elaborate prank, she thought to herself. There was no other way to explain it. Surely, within the next few days, someone would claim credit and they'd have a good laugh. Then she could stop looking over her shoulder and shake off the feeling that someone was watching her.